


Topple

by Menirva



Series: Blue bells, cockle shells, easy, ivy, over [1]
Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:14:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menirva/pseuds/Menirva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Barsad takes a bad tumble trying to watch over his friends he unexpectedly makes a new one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Topple

The sudden drop and rush of air around him shocks any noise out of him as he topples down with a sick thud.  
   
When the pain registers, he whimpers out loud at the sharp, sudden bite of pine chips into his knees. The monkey bars hadn’t seemed so slippery when he was climbing them, but the morning dew had clung to them and left a thin sheen of film, had made him lose his grip as he had swung his legs over the metal rungs so he could perch and watch the playground.  
  
They aren’t supposed to be here, they don’t go to this school, or any school really; Talia’s father teaches them as they move around from place to place, but Talia had seen the sand pit on a walk one day and wanted to play in it with them.  
  
Barsad told them he would stand guard instead, would tell them if anyone was coming. He liked the feeling of being up high and watching them as they played.  
  
Now, though, he sniffles and his small fingers pull up his pant leg so he can see the red angry scrapes and the little lines of blood bubbling up from them. They sting and his eyes get a little watery when he sees them.  
  
“Wow, are you ok? You really fell hard.”  
  
Barsad looks up, startled at the quiet, impressed-sounding tone. His own bright blue eyes peer into wide brown ones looking down at him. A boy, maybe his age with a mop of black hair that forms little waves near his ears that poke out from under it. His tummy wavers at the knowledge that someone had seen him slip, and he bobs his head quickly, wanting him to go away and not laugh like Barsad has seen other kids do to those who fell, those who were small for their age and haven’t quite mastered control of their limbs yet.  
  
“I’m fine,” he says quickly, trying to roll his pantlegs back down.  
  
The other boy kneels just as quickly beside him, scrunching in close to look at the scrapes. “Nah-ah, you’re bleeding.” He looks around quickly, spotting Bane and Talia digging a deep hole in the sand pit and asks, “Are those your friends?”  
  
“Don’t tell!” he begs in a rushed voice. He doesn’t want Bane or Talia to know he let them down, that now because of him someone knows they’re there where they don’t belong.  
  
The other boy tilts his head in confusion, but pulls on his arm. “Come on, I’ll help you clean it.”  
  
“I can’t go into the bathrooms,” he admits quietly, too grateful that the other boy isn’t tattling to lie. “I don’t go here.”  
  
The other boy suddenly grins, showing off his missing front teeth. “Me either! But there’s a water fountain outside we can use; let’s go.”  
  
The water stings as the other boy scoops up little handfuls of the icy stuff and trickles it over his knees. The blood pinks and washes away sluggishly while he sucks in a pained breath, closing his eyes tightly.  
  
“My name is John,” the boy says softly, trying to dab at the cuts with the hem of his shirt. He’s cut off by a yelp, and Barsad’s eyes fly open to see John suddenly dangling from the water fountain, Bane holding him there by his shoulders and his grungy sneakers barely touching the blacktop.  
  
“Did he hurt you?”  
  
He shakes his head quickly, tugging at Bane’s pant leg from where he sits. “He didn’t!”  
  
He doesn’t want to admit what happened, but he doesn’t want John to get a punch to the stomach for helping, which is Bane’s preferred method of doling out punishment when he catches someone picking on him or Talia. Bane is very protective. He towers over both him and Talia even though they’re all roughly the same age. No one picks on them when Bane is near.  
  
“I… I… fell.” He looks down and hugs around his legs, feeling the flush of embarrassment rising up on his cheeks. “John was helping.”  
  
“Bane. Put him down,” Talia orders gently. Her voice is calm and so much more adult than Barsad thinks his will ever sound. She quickly looks over them and understands the situation.  
  
Bane nods and John eeps slightly when he’s dropped down to plop onto his butt on the pavement.  
  
Bane kneels down in front of Barsad and gently inspects the cuts, his fingers more delicate than his years should allow. “You fell? Why didn’t you get us?”  
  
Barsad sticks out his lip bravely, though he feels it wibble slightly. “It didn’t hurt.”  
  
He knows Bane would have taken care of it. He always takes care of any bruises and scrapes he gets, but Barsad hates how dumb he feels now, how he still has a bruise on his forehead from when he bumped into the table last week, a cut on his arm from tripping up the steps. He always manages to get so many scrapes and cuts and feels like a baby every time, even though Bane always makes them feel better. It makes him feel even smaller than Talia even though they’re almost the same size. Talia never trips or falls.  
  
Bane looks at him intently and Barsad’s stomach flutters around like it always does when he fibs to him. “It hurts a little,” he finally admits in a tiny voice.  
  
Talia crouches down beside him, wrapping a slender arm comfortingly around his shoulder. “Bane will make it feel better.”  
  
He nods little, done trying to feel brave when he doesn’t have to, and leans against Talia while Bane bends down to place a gentle kiss over the scrapes, making the pain ebb away like it always does.  
  
John watches and his eyes look so sad for a moment. He scrubs at his face and pushes up to stand, ready to run off.  
  
Talia pokes her head in front of him. “Let’s go home. Come eat lunch with us, John.”  
  
John shakes his head quickly. “I can’t leave, my dad said he’d come pick me up when it gets dark.”  
  
“Then we’ll come back when it gets dark,” Talia promises, not at all deterred.  
  
John falters his firm stance, worrying over his lip before he gives her a tiny nod. Talia takes his hand and leads them home for lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> http://relevantlyirreverent.tumblr.com/


End file.
